Broken Sunlight
by HilaryHilary
Summary: Flight attendant Brooke Davis is torn between two sides of the same country and between two men. Her once orderly life comes crashing down when both of them decide they want to be with her for real, and she has to make a choice. Brucas, Brathan, Naley. AU
1. Takeoffs and Landings

**Broken Sunlight**

* * *

Author's note: So this is a new one for me. I've never written a brucas/brathan before. Hope you guys like it! This one definitely won't be as long as A Winding Road or Never Forget. And it's pretty different, too. 

_Summary: Flight attendant Brooke Davis is torn between two sides of the same country-and between two men. Her once orderly life comes crashing down when both of them decide they want to be with her for real, and she has to make a choice. Brucas, Brathan, Naley. AU._

Dedicated to Davis, who deserves some Brucas after all this time.

* * *

Chapter One: Takeoffs and Landings

Brooke Davis' cheerful, animated smile fell as soon as she turned away from yet another demanding passenger. This had to be one of the least satisfying jobs she'd ever had, as well as the most convenient.

As a child, she'd never imagined herself wanting to end up here. She'd wanted to be an artist. And then a fashion model. As a teenager, she'd wanted to be a designer, and the dream had stuck until she'd come out of college and realized she was full of ideas but had no one to tell them to. Brooke had become a flight attendant because it paid well enough and it allowed her to live in more than one place, but prided herself on not having Flight Attendant Hair.

She pushed the beverages cart to the back of the plane, finally having satisfied the whim of every first class passenger. She dropped down in the seat next to her friend, Rachel Gattina, another attendant.

"I _hate_ first class passengers," she proclaimed bitterly, glancing at her friend. Rachel, Brooke noticed with slight satisfaction, did indeed have Flight Attendant Hair.

"Funny. First class just loves you," she said, smirking. Brooke immediately comprehended her meaning and glanced up the aisle to where a middle aged business man was sitting, still leering at her. She conjured up another fake smile.

"I hate you."

Rachel nodded.

"I know."

* * *

When the plane landed smoothly on the runway of Charleston, South Carolina, Brooke was relieved. Considering her occupation, she reflected, it was a surprising thing to be afraid of.

Once she, Rachel, and the other attendants had smiled graciously to the passengers as they left the plane, she fled the airport. She had a whole night before she had to leave again and she knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

Brooke admired the scenery as she was driven past it in the cab she'd hailed at the airport. It was a nice city. She could almost imagine living here, had it not been so slow. As it was, she had other reasons to enjoy the city. One reason, specifically.

The house that she'd directed the cab to was a tall, narrow townhouse, squished in between many other similar houses, almost imperceptible to the eye. It was an address she'd come to memorize, a home she'd come to see almost as her own. She hurried up the steps. She disregarded the fact that she was still wearing her uniform. She opened the door without pausing to knock.

Brooke smiled when at last she reached her destination. He was sitting at his small, round, kitchen table, dressed in gray sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. His face was unshaven, he was reading the newspaper. Clearly he hadn't expected visitors. She smiled, relieved at seeing him after so many days, relieved that this part of her life remained still and unchanging, always.

"Hey," she said softly, hoping to subtly ease him away from his newspaper. His head snapped up in surprise. Instantly he smiled. He rose to greet her, and she realized with a smile that he had bare feet.

"Brooke." He walked toward her and took her in his arms. "I didn't know you were coming."

His voice registered surprise. But his lips, only moments later, told her that it was a good surprise.

* * *

"Do you have to leave again?" he asked. It was hours later, they were in his bed. The sun was setting outside of his window. Her uniform was on the floor in the hall, long since discarded.

She nodded against his chest.

"Tomorrow?"

She nodded again.

She heard him sigh quietly, but warded off his trepidation with another kiss. This had happened with almost every man she'd been involved with-him sooner or later growing tired of her inconsistent presence, him demanding a change. This had never come down in their favour. She'd never done well with ultimatums.

Brooke dreaded the day that this would happen. She felt comfortable lying in Lucas' arms, was growing fond of the image of him in her head, of him writing on his computer in bed and the day old stubble that accumulated whenever she left him for a night or two. Even though they hadn't gotten to the stage of him meeting her at the airport, or even him going on dates while she was gone (she wasn't sure if he did that or not), she wasn't ready to let go of what they did have yet.

Lucas sighed. "Did Rachel get it on in the bathroom today?" he asked curiously. To him, though he'd never met her, Rachel was the most clichéd flight attendant that the world had ever seen. Brooke giggled.

"Nope. Today she was on third class, and generally she only bothers with the first class businessmen," explained Brooke.

"Remind me to go flying more often," he said. He grinned as she rolled over and straddled him, her long dark hair falling erotically around her bare shoulders.

"Trust me," she said, as he admired her naked form. "She is _not_ your type."

* * *

In the morning, Brooke left as quickly as she always did and to Lucas, standing in the doorway in his boxers, it was like she'd never been there at all.

As she neared the airport, and then hurried through it to get to her flight before it left without her, she was considerably calmer. Being with Lucas was so soothing. It made her feel like she was in a real, grown-up relationship, even though she wasn't. She could picture them, both sitting at that kitchen table in their underwear, trading back sections of the newspaper.

Brooke shook this thought out of her head as she took her place beside Rachel to welcome passengers onto the plane.

When they arrived on the Chicago runway only a few hours later, she was relieved as she'd been when they'd arrived in Charleston the day before. Chicago was equally familiar territory to her. The short flight, from Charleston to Chicago, was one she was often assigned to. It had become her routine, and it definitely had its perks.

Rachel watched suspiciously as Brooke all but ran out of the airport. Brooke commonly chastised Rachel for her behavior in airplane washrooms, but Brooke's behavior on land told a different story.

The home she sought out here was an entirely different one. Brooke nervously smoothed out the skirt she'd changed into while she rose the elevator up to the high rise apartment. She'd thought to change out of her uniform, this time.

She let herself into the apartment with her key and walked quickly toward the bedroom. Her heart quickened when she saw him, his upper body not covered by the sheet, his dark hair rumpled. He stirred when she entered, and sat up in bed.

"Hey babe," he said, smiling sleepily at her. He patted the expanse of bed beside him. "Care to join me?"

Brooke smiled back and quickly walked toward the bed of her lover.


	2. History, Buried in Shame

Chapter Two: History, Buried in Shame

"You do get that she's trouble, right?"

Lucas glanced behind him as his little sister wandered into the main room and caught him staring longingly at the taxi that carried away his girlfriend. He abandoned his stance in the door frame and turned toward her.

"Hey Hales," he said in resignation, well aware that they were about to embark on a conversation he'd participated in many, many times before.

"I mean, seriously. She's way hotter than any of the other girls you've dated, and she runs over here every time she lands here, but then she's gone in the morning, and you never know when she's coming back. Do you even know her last name?" asked Haley, suspiciously protective.

"Brooke Davis. Brooke _Penelope_ Davis," he bragged.

"Lucas _Eugene_ Roe, does she even know yours?" pressed Haley. Lucas fell silent, unwilling to admit that he wasn't sure.

Lucas turned away from her and walked toward the kitchen, vaguely annoyed and wondering where she'd come from, in the first place. Probably she'd sneaked in the back. He never should have given her that key.

"Give it a rest, will you? It's not like when you have boyfriends I..."

"Give them the third degree? No, never..." she said sarcastically. Lucas, normally an excellent older brother, definitely lost points in her eyes in this category.

Lucas smiled ruefully, his bad mood ebbing away in her ramblings.

"Anyway, she's probably not even a flight attendant. She always shows up in her uniform. Probably she rents it," predicted Haley darkly.

"Don't you think that's kind of extreme?" he asked skeptically.

"Of course not," she explained patiently. "I've heard from many extremely reliable sources that you're quite a babe."

Lucas blushed, and she smiled. Lucas had always been like this, so innocent of the girls throwing themselves at him, desiring his protective nature and his easy good guyness as much as they desired his body. Perhaps, they desired his ignorance of these just as much.

* * *

Just for a second, just before he entered her and just before her orgasm began to roll over her, she felt a little bit like a whore. 

He always made her feel like that, but never intentionally. He never treated her like a woman he was in love with, but it was because he wasn't in love with her. It wasn't his fault, and she hardly blamed him. She didn't bother to make herself lovable to him.

"Where are you coming from?" he asked listlessly. Brooke glanced sideways at him in surprise. It was rare that he took an interest in her life.

"Charleston."

Nathan smiled.

"What's in Charleston?" he asked skeptically. She shrugged. There really wasn't much in Charleston, besides beach and a fairly mild winter.

"What's in Chicago?" she retorted.

"Me," he said, smirking. "The Chicago Bulls. Wind."

Brooke scoffed. Off course Nathan would name such unremarkable sights. He _was _a Chicago Bull. When she'd first met him, on a flight back from New York, she'd gotten the impression that he was mildly horrified that she didn't know who he was.

She still didn't bother to watch his games, even when she flipped past them when she had nothing to do.

* * *

Brooke left after Nathan had fallen asleep. She didn't leave a note, because she knew he didn't expect her to stay. She didn't leave a note, because she knew she'd be back. 

She rode in a taxi through the dark Chicago night, a location firmly in her mind. It wasn't exactly her home, but it was the closest she came to having one. It had been her home, before she'd started living all over the country. And the people she loved most still lived there, so in that way it counted as a home, too.

She attempted to silently unlock the door, but when she finally got it open, the blonde was already waiting for her. She flung herself eagerly into her best friend's waiting arms.

"I feel like I've been gone for _weeks_," she said dramatically. Peyton patted her back sympathetically.

"It's been three days, B. Davis," she said. Brooke's embrace loosened into an arm casually slung around her friend's shoulders.

"Is the boy here?" asked Brooke curiously, as they made their way to the main room of the apartment. Peyton smiled.

"He's my boyfriend. And he lives here," clarified Peyton, not for the first time.

They passed the bedroom where Peyton's boyfriend, Jake, was sleeping. Brooke admired him for a second. Not in a remotely sexual way, but in an honest appraisal. Jake was so stable, so infinitely solid. He balanced out Peyton perfectly.

Brooke envied their relationship. Openly and wholeheartedly. She stared at them, too long and too hard when they were having intimate moments, ones she had no part in. Moments that were out in the open but excluded the rest of the world.

She didn't with she was Peyton. She didn't desire Jake for herself, but she desired at least some small part of what she had.

Thinking of Jake and Peyton's relationship made her think of her own. Of both of them. Of her simple ability to be immediately be at home with Lucas, and at her inability to not be near Nathan, not soaking him in, not touching him, not having him touch her. It was confusing, and she hated thinking about it. She made herself stop.

"Where are you coming from?" asked Peyton sympathetically. One glance from Brooke taught her all she needed to know. "Both?"

"I was with Luke in Charleston yesterday and then I got here, and..." Brooke let herself trail off, not liking the image of herself that was forming before Peyton's eyes.

"There is no way this is going to end well," predicted Peyton. Brooke nodded like a child chastised.

"Neither of them think they're my boyfriend," said Brooke hopefully.

"Lucas does. Even if Nathan doesn't. And if nothing else, Nathan thinks he's the only man you're sleeping with."

Brooke sighed and mulled over the recent interactions in her head.

"It's not like that. I mean, it's not that simple," she explained.

"I guess I thought you would have fallen in love with one of them by now," admitted Peyton.

Brooke shrugged, but remained silent. It had been her assumption, in the beginning, as well.

For the longest time she'd thought it would be Lucas.

She'd met him first, randomly while stopping at a bar after work. She'd noticed him immediately, though he'd been with a woman. Later, she'd realized that it was his younger sister.

She'd sat down two seats over from him, and it had not taken him long to move over the extra seat. He'd raised his eyebrows skeptically when she told him she was a flight attendant. Looking back, she realized that it had sounded like a line.

He was blonde, intense and good looking. He'd politely asked her out on a date, even though she'd known, even then, that she would have slept with him without one.

They'd arranged to see each other a few nights later, and then again a few nights after that. They'd slept together that night, and after that they'd fallen into an entirely different pattern.

She'd become addicted to it. To the man, to the easiness of letting herself into his house, of sleeping in his bed, of him trusting her, of him feeling that he knew her completely.

He didn't, of course.

Three weeks later, before they'd had the chance to fully become comfortable with each other, she'd met Nathan. He'd been coming home from a game in New York, and she'd been assigned to take care of him and the rest of the basketball players, rowdy and quickly intoxicated.

He'd seduced her. Shamelessly easily, as she reflected later. It made her blush, how quickly it had happened. Not on the plane, not in the bathroom, but later in his room, where she'd gone. Knowing what would happen, knowing that Lucas was not yet her boyfriend. Knowing she'd done this before and come out just fine. Knowing she would do it again.

And so she'd fallen into a routine of her own, without either of them having the knowledge of the other. All the while knowing in her heart that the choice was easy, that she'd known all along who would care about the knowledge of the other and who would not.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the slow update, I guess I'm still getting used to writing these couplings. Definitely a first for me.

Thanks to those of you who reviewed last time! Hope this chapter clarifies some of the stuff that's been happening.


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